


Norman's fate

by Booker_DeShit



Series: Booker_DeShit's One-shots [4]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Body Horror, Body Modification, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Explicit Consent, Gen, Heavy Angst, Major Character Injury, Medical Torture, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Poor Norman, Pre-Bendy and the Ink Machine (Video Game), Susie is Alice Angel, Temporary Character Death, Torture, Transformation, Violence, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-19 20:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19979956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Booker_DeShit/pseuds/Booker_DeShit
Summary: Joey Drew had no hand behind the Protectionist. It was the false angel who had created him for her own gain. This is the story of how the Protectionist came to be.





	Norman's fate

He had wondered those halls for god knows how long. He leaned, holding himself with a steady hand along the wall. He couldn't really feel the pain anymore, yet he knew that his body burned & ached. His body was littered with cuts & bruises, wounds of unknown origin. His hair was matted with ink, or was that blood? He wasn't sure, he was only aware of the thick strands obscuring his vision. Even if it was blood, he wouldn't be able to tell, everything around him looking black. Black walls, black floors, black ceiling. Black flooding the halls & dripping from up above. The smell, it made him sick to his stomach. Although he had already emptied it ages ago, he stopped & dropped to his knees, dry heaving as he shook from the exhaustion & sudden pain ripping through his old, worn down body. He wanted to get out, he needed to get out. He couldn't bare being stuck in that studio, forsaken by god, & a literal hell on earth. Still, he remembered the times when everything was OK. Brightly lit hallways buzzing with life. Rooms full of workers chattering about. Smiling faces of happy, hardworking people. Joey Drew Studios used to be a place where even an outside like him felt happy & safe. Now, ironically, he felt eyes watching his every step, vultures awaiting his death in the shadows where he once dwelled. He had never felt more vulnerable in his life.

He saw her in the corner of his eyes, before he heard the click of her heels. Just on the edge, almost out of sight, demonically angelic, a cruel smile gracing her lips, "Look who we have here," She drawled, almost bored, "A new fly in my endless web." The excited glint in her black eyes was what ticked him off. She swung her arm, an axe embedding in the wall where his head previously was. Rolling away, he grabbed a hold of her leg. She kicked him in the jaw, yet he pulled & the angel fell. The axe came with her, tumbling out of the wall.

"Not t'day, monster." He huffed, going for the axe.

"You little..." She swung again, embedding it in his shoulder. A howl of pain ripped from his throat as he wrestled with the axe with numb fingers. The angel forced him onto his back, pushing her heel into his chest, effectively pinning him where he lay. Through blurry eyes & tears he saw the remains of his old friend, drowning in the ink monster she had become.

"Susie. Please." He gasped. The same cruel smile twisted her beautiful face.

"Projectors don't talk, sweety." Then she kicked him in the head & his mind went blank.

~~==~~==~~==~~==

When he woke up next, he was strapped to a table, with whatever monstrosity Susie had turned into dragging a slender finger along his neck, "Susie." He called out to her.

"Hush now," She placed a finger to his lips, her eyes not leaving his neck, "I want you to be awake for this. Don't make me regret it."

"Susie. Please." As if snapped out of a trance, Susie's eyes found his. A silent apology hung on her tongue, a wild, frightened look in her eyes before she stepped away from him, & over to another table. He couldn't quite see what was there beside a hint of something metallic.

"What should we start with? How about... The reel?" She purrs, picking up nothing else but a film reel. He recognised it. 'Tombstone picnic' was scrawled on the side in a familiar cursive. That was always his favourite episode, & the one he always had set up in a few projects down at level 14. In case he was bored. 

"Gah." He gasped as Susie dug a finger into his bleeding shoulder. She came back with a black liquid coating her skin.

"Disgusting," She scowled, "Absolutely disgusting. This vile ink is everywhere now. It makes all of us. The very essence of what we are. Yet it is very pliable." She thrust the reel into his gaping shoulder. He shrieked, back arching off the table.

Susie only pushed in deeper, "Please, stop! It hurts! IT HURTS!" He wailed. Susie showed no remorse, holding the reel steady as he thrashed & cried, patiently waiting until the metal fuse to his flesh.

Once she was sure it would stay in place, she stepped back with a grimace & wiped her hands on his shirt, "Now, for the speaker." She only stepped back up to him once he had calmed down. In her hand he noticed a blunt piece of metal: a scalpel.

"Please, no." The scalpel was pressed to his chest, pricking the skin throughout the fabric of his sweater. It slipped in slowly, prying the skin apart as pain bloomed in his chest, bringing hot intervals of agony. He slammed his head violently against the table, screaming himself hoarse.

"None of that now," Susie yanked his head up, fisting his hair into a bunch, "You need to stay awake for this." She glided the scalpel through his skin, cutting open a decently sized hole. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. The pain was overwhelming yet it wasn't enough to make him pass out. Susie slapped him & he jumped, more aware again. The pain brought tears to his eyes & stole away his breath.

"Pl..."

"The speaker! I forgot the speaker. Try not to move as I put it in." He must have passed out as the cold metal was pressed to his open muscle, as the next thing he remembered was being slapped awake by the cursed angel. An axe was pressed to his throat, cold against his heated skin. Then she swung, that cruel smile in her face. He didn't remember anything after that, aside from the look of regret in her eyes, as if his friend was still there, that had been burned into his mind.

~~==~~==~~==~~==

It woke up due to the cold. Its body shivered & ached, its neck bending painfully under some sort of pressure. Everything around it appeared dark, almost black, "Are you finally awake?" A voice hissed at it. It wasn't sure where the voice came from.

"HrRRrk." It releases a staticy breath in response. It found itself unable to speak, & it had a feeling that wasn't a good thing.

"Good," The voice purred. It felt itself being drawn to the voice. That voice sounded so kind, "Now. Listen up." It listened eagerly, wanting to listen. It wondered about, trying to reach the voice, to hear it more clearly.

"HrrRK."

"I need you to do me a favour. You have to harvest ink hearts for me, leave them lying about so that I can collect them later on. Do you understand?" It understood. It understood very well. It only wanted to please.

"HRRrrK." It felt itself getting close as the constricting walls ended & it found itself in a larger, brighter room.

"Good." The voice hummed, silky smooth. Then it saw her, the angel that the voice belonged to. She was beautiful, perfectly elegant & angelically devilish. She was... She...

"SCREEEEEE!" It lunged at her, overcame with such a blinding fury, a bloodlust for its creator that it would've been ashamed of if it could think.

"Good bye, Norman." Then the angel was gone, out if its light. A relief washed over it, flushing out the anger. It felt... Numb. Completely empty. No longer angry, no longer wishing to please the angel. In that state of mind, it wondered back to its maze as the Projectionist. There was no longer a Norman Polk, just ink & a projector.


End file.
